Tales of Survival
by Talo12Books
Summary: 12 Jigsaw survivors gather, while Jigsaw plans his next move, rated M for strong language, intense violence, blood and gore. On permanent hiatus.
1. Prologue

"_I do not condone murder, and I despise murderers."-John Kramer (SAW III)_

**Tales of Survival**

A hooded man walked down the streets. As he passed the police precinct, He chanced a look into the glass door. It was busy for the night hours.

'Are they onto me?' the man thought. He discarded the thought and continued to walk. The people he passed gave him awkward looks.

'Soon they will gather,' he thought, 'then the games will be set in motion. But for now I must not draw attention to myself. Soon everything will work out into my favor. Soon.'

**Prologue**

As Bobby Dagen sat down, he noticed that multiple chairs were empty. He looked at everyone who was sitting there. They were confused, abused, tortured souls that survived the infamous Jigsaw Killer. Bobby was the only one who knew what they shared in common. But Bobby had a secret, he claims to have been in a trap where he has to pull himself up wires with meat hooks on the end of them to climb through the opening at the top to escape or risk his pectoral muscles being pulled out of his chest by the meat hooks; but Bobby is a liar, he never went through the trap, he only said so to make capital, and the scars on his chest, self-inflicted. But Bobby could not tell anyone or he would be ruined.

Bobby waited a little longer for any more survivors. Just then the door opened, and in walked a man, Bobby noticed something strange about his gait; he was limping. Bobby then saw the cane. The man wore a plain, white t-shirt and blue jeans. The man slowly limped towards the circle of chairs. Bobby knew there was something extraordinary about him; he couldn't put his finger on it though. The man looked straight ahead right into Bobby's heart; he had never felt a sense of peculiarity towards a man like this before. As the man limped closer to the circle, more light shown upon him, revealing more detail of his figure.

What Bobby saw horrified him; there were scars everywhere on the exposed skin Bobby could see. Then Bobby saw that the man's right foot was shorter than the left one. The man was about twenty five years old, way too young for any kind of bone disease. The man slowly sat down. Bobby could tell it was painful for him to make much movement. Shortly after, two more men walk in they seem to talk like old friends. One of them had a scar running along the underside of his right eye. The other did not appear to have a scar at first, but after a closer look Bobby could see a 'T-shaped' scar horizontal on his neck; and vertical to his chest. They sat down next to each other and started talking about something else.

The next person to show up was a woman, about age twenty eight. Her left arm had multiple scars on it, and was missing the pinky and ring finger. Bobby watched her swiftly and silently took a seat next to the man with the significant limp. Two seats were still empty. A woman, about thirty-three, walked into the room. She had no visible scars on her. Who's to tell what she went through? There was still one seat open. Bobby was tired of waiting so he started. He greeted them all. But before he could say anything else, the door swung open and a man walked in the room. He had his lower face hidden by a bandana. He had a jacket and white t-shirt on, along with jeans on. He walked towards the circle, stopping just outside of it. He looked at the people who were staring at him.

"Bobby Dagen?" he asked, slightly confused.

"Yeah? That's me," Bobby answered with equal confusion.

"Looks like I came to the right place."

The man sat in the remaining open seat. Bobby looked at all who had gathered. He smiled a little, to himself. Twelve people gathered for the meeting, all with their own tales of survival. Zach, Julie, Justin, Cole, Sara, Diana, Bryan, Susan, Collin, Jillian, Anthony, Eric; they are all here; it has now been set in motion.

"Well, who wants to go first?" Bobby asked.

"I will," the man with the limp said.

"Begin when you're ready."

Let the games begin.


	2. Chapter 1: Zach's Tale of Survival

"_He doesn't want us to cut through our chains; he wants us to cut through our feet." –Dr. Lawrence Gordon (SAW)_

**Tales of Survival**

"What was the experience like for you?" Bobby asked.

"It was horrifying, absolutely horrifying. I'm not afraid to admit that I was scared shitless," the man, Zach, said.

"Can you explain what happened, as completely as you can?"

"Sure, I'll tell you everything that happened."

**Chapter 1: Zach's Tale of Survival: The Fortune Teller Trap**

The lights suddenly became really bright as the fluorescent lights turned on. I could not move my arms. My head was tilted in an upward position and was held there by an apparatus strapped to my chin. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I gained the privileged to observer my surroundings. It was a whitewashed room, outside the small, rectangular box that I was confined to. As I closely observed the outside the best I could, there seemed to be a glass wall half way between my box and the wall I could see. I could not see anything in the room behind the glass wall for it was out of my sight. I started to panic, trying to break free of my restraints. It was not working. I wore myself out and stopped trying. I then heard a door open. I could see someone out of the corner of my eye.

"Hey, hey, get me the fuck out of here! Help me the fuck out!" I shouted. He looked at me weirdly.

"Why the fuck are you just staring at me? Fucking do something you motherfucker!" I did not know if he could hear me. I heard a click and a tape started playing.

"Hello, Zach. I want to play a game. For years you have been a heroin addict. But that was never of importance in your life until your employer found out, and fired you. After that, you started using a lot more. And every time you tried to get help, you dragged them in too. After that, your lust for the drug but lack of money became too much. You sat at home and stuck needles in your arms, just for the feeling of it. But you discovered that you could get a job at the carnival as a fortune teller, and they didn't care if you were an addict. From that point on, you sat in booth day after day earning money to buy heroin. The game I want to play with you is divided in to three parts. The device you are in is much similar to where you spent most of your life. I sometimes think you'd do anything to have needles in you; but today we shall see if that is truly what you want. When this tape ends, you will have thirty seconds before the needles move toward your body and puncture it. The needles will not kill you until the two that are headed towards your eyes puncture your brain in sixty seconds. The first part of this game will require the man, who has entered the room, to find a key to stop the needles. But after he stops them, it will be up to you to complete the rest of the game. Remember, his life depends on your will to live. Will you drag someone else down with you, or will you change your habits? Live or die, Zach. Make your choice. Let the game begin." The cassette tape ended and I could hear gears spinning up. I saw the needles lurch forward towards me.

"Shit!" I shouted out as the needles got closer, "Fuck, fuck, hurry the fuck up!" The man was rigorously searching for a key. The needles were getting closer.

"Please, I can't die, not like this," I pleaded. I felt a sharp pain in my back. Metal objects pushed deep into my back.

"Fuck!" I called out. Then metal objects entered the front side of my body. The pain was unbearable. I then tasted blood in my mouth, and felt a sharp, metal object against the bottom of my tongue. I chocked on my own blood, trying to spit it out of my mouth. I could now feel blood running freely from all the entry wounds the needles created. I saw the man outside; he was still looking for the key.

"Hurry up!" I said, my blood gurgling in my throat as the wound in my mouth continued to bleed rapidly. I could not take it anymore; I knew I was going to pass out. My vision slightly wavered. The man found the key and turned the devise off. Now it was all up to me. I knew what I had to do. The restraints holding my wrists had weakened from all my struggling. I calculating the angle needed to pull my left arm out of the restraint. I pulled with as much strength as I could gather, ripping away skin and flesh as I broke free. The next step was my right arm. I did the same procedure as the left.

"Oh my god!" I shouted as I saw what happened to my arms. I grabbed the needles in front of my torso, and pulled. I screamed as I pulled each individual needle out. It took a while but I was able to pull them all out of my chest, then my back, then my legs. And soon enough I was free, or so I thought. As I went to take my first step, my right leg seemed to be confined. I looked down and saw a shackle around my right leg. I sat down and tried to pull it off, but it would not budge.

"Shit!" I called out. I looked around for something to help me escape. I touched all of the panels to see if one was false. And I was right; one of them was false and housed a rusty hacksaw. I grabbed it and started to hack at the chain; but gave up when it did no damage to it what so ever, not even a scratch. Then I realized it, he wanted me to cut through my foot. I gathered up all the courage I had. I started to saw at my foot. I could not bear it much more, I just kept sawing. I had closed my eyes to avoid looking at my own foot being cut off.

When I opened my eyes again, I was all the way through my foot, just sawing at the floor now. I threw the saw across the room; I could not stand the sight of it. I saw a door knob. Twisting it, I found it to be locked. I then noticed writing in what appeared to be blood. 'Check your pockets,' it read. I checked them, and found a key in my back, left pocket. I was able to unlock the door, and miraculously made my way down the hall. There was a burning hot pipe down a ways. Red letters next to it read cauterize here. I took the advice. Cauterizing it burned like hell. As I was about to pass out, a figure in a red, Halloween costume-like hooded outfit approached me. His voice was much like the voice on the tape.

"Congratulations, you're still alive. Most people are so ungrateful to be alive, but not you, not anymore," he said before I passed out. When I woke up I was in a hospital. I was asked a lot of questions, and yes he did help me overcome my drug addiction.


End file.
